


Binary

by AutisticWriter



Series: Autistic Headcanons [28]
Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Asexual Doctor (Doctor Who), Asexuality, Autism, Autism Spectrum, Autistic Doctor, Autistic Third Doctor, Awkwardness, Bisexuality, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Genderfluid Character, Genderfluid Third Doctor, Hugs, Intersex, LGBTQ Character, One Shot, Other, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Acceptance, Self-Discovery, Sensory Overload, Sensory seeking, Stimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-21
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-11-03 06:02:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10961190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutisticWriter/pseuds/AutisticWriter
Summary: The Doctor can’t understand the human obsession with making everything binary. The Brigadier can’t understand most of what the Doctor says. And they both can’t understand their feelings for each other.





	Binary

“Ah, Doctor, there you are,” the Brigadier says as he finally locates the Doctor.

He should have expected him to be in his lab, but, at the same time, one can never really know where the Doctor might have got to. He never normally minds the Doctor wandering around the base, but at a time like this, it would be helpful to locate the Doctor quickly.

The Doctor turns his head when he hears, looking up from his microscope. “Hello, Brigadier. What can I do for you?”

“I was wondering if you could analyse this for me,” he says, holding out the small fabric sample contained in a plastic bag. “Its evidence found at the scene of the robbery. We found it on a nail sticking out of the wall, and I’m rather certain it was torn from the burglar’s clothing. Could you check for DNA and all the usual tests and then report back as soon as possible?”

The Doctor stares at him, his eyes partly closed, not saying anything. He looks like he’s concentrating hard, except the Brigadier has finished talking.

“Doctor?”

As though there has been no delay, the Doctor smiles and takes the package. He places it on the desk as he says, “Sorry, my brain just needed a while to process that. Yes, of course I can do that for you, Brigadier.

“Good man,” he says, clapping the Doctor on the shoulder.

The Doctor flinches, and grasps his arm as he removes it from the Doctor’s shoulder. The Brigadier can’t quite read the expression on the Doctor’s face, but he doesn’t look happy.

“Doctor? What are you doing?”

The Doctor lets go and steps backwards. He watches him wring his hands, a mannerism rather similar to what his previous incarnation did when he was stressed. “Sorry, I just wanted to tell you something before you leave.”

“What’s that, then?” he says, still confused.

The Doctor swallows hard, and begins to rub his fingers against the frilly cuffs of his shirt. “I just wondered if you could refrain from calling me a man. Because I’m not currently a man and it makes me rather uncomfortable to be referred to as such.”

“Excuse me?” the Brigadier says, wondering if he might have misheard the Doctor.

“I said I’m not a man at this moment in time, so could you please try and refrain from calling me one. I’m also using ze/zir pronouns at the moment, so could you please use those instead of he/him please?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Ze, my dear fellow,” the Doctor says, smiling despite the distinct look of anxiety on zirs face and the near constant fidgeting. “It’s a pronoun. Pronounced the same way the Americans pronounce the letter zed.”

“I see,” the Brigadier says, but he really doesn’t.

“You’re confused, aren’t you?” the Doctor says, starting rock backwards and forwards slightly on the balls of zirs feet.

“A bit,” he admits.

“Yes, well, I can see why. After all, humans aren’t the most advanced in the understanding of gender.”

He frowns, more confused than before. “Can you please explain, Doctor? I really don’t understand this conversation.”

The Doctor chuckles.“With pleasure. I’m genderfluid, my dear Brigadier. Sometimes I’m a man, sometimes I’m a woman, sometimes I’m nonbinary, and sometimes, like today, I’m agender. That means I don’t identify with any gender. And when I am agender, I use ze/zir pronouns. I’d appreciate it if you use my pronouns, because being misgendered is a rather unpleasant experience.”

“Do you mean to say that your gender changes?”

“Yes, that is the definition of fluidity, Brigadier,” the Doctor says. “Does it make a bit more sense now?”

“A bit...” he says slowly. This is so bizarre; he has never heard of being genderfluid before in his life.

“I’m not expecting you to understand it totally right now,” the Doctor says. “I’m just hoping you’ll understand in time, and use my correct pronouns from now on. Is that all right?”

“Of course that’s all right, Doctor. I’m still rather puzzled, but I’m sure it will all make sense in time.”

“Yes, I’m sure it will. I’ve got something for you that might help, as it happens.”

The Doctor digs into zirs pocket and hands the Brigadier what appears to be a business card. He glances at it, and sees **ze/zir/zirs/zirself** written on the card in thick letters. He flips the card over, and finds a description of how to use the pronouns in conversation. When he looks back at the Doctor, he finds zir smiling bashfully.

“Sorry, I’ve been talking for a while, haven’t I?” the Doctor says, chuckling to zirself. “I’m sorry to have kept you for so long, Brigadier. And I’ll get you the results as soon as I can.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” the Brigadier says, smiling as he leaves the room. “And thank you for the card. It’s most useful.”

“You’re welcome, my dear fellow!” the Doctor calls after him. “And I have plenty more if you’d like them.”

The Brigadier chuckles and shakes his head as he slips the card into his pocket, imagining the Doctor having hundreds of boxes full of cards crowding the TARDIS. It just seems exactly like the sort of thing ze would do.

\---

“Where’s the Doctor, sir?” Sergeant Benton says as he enters the room. “I need to talk to him.”

“Them,” the Brigadier says, almost automatically; correcting people when they use incorrect pronouns for the Doctor is almost a reflex by now. It has only been five days since the Doctor told him that they are genderfluid, and he is amazed how quickly he has remembered the Doctor’s ever changing pronouns. The Doctor must be too, because they look delighted whenever the Brigadier calls them the correct pronouns or corrects one of his officers.

“Pardon?”

“They, Benton,” he says. “The Doctor is using they/them pronouns at the moment.”

Benton looks a bit confused, but nods his head. “Righto. So, where are they?”

Smiling, the Brigadier says, “The Doctor and Jo are in the Doctor’s lab. I have no idea what they’re doing, so I would knock before you enter if I were you.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” Benton says as he heads off to find the Doctor, clearly worrying about what weird thing might be going on in the Doctor’s laboratory this time.

\---

Only a week after they came out to the Brigadier as genderfluid, the Doctor has taken it upon themself to give the members of UNIT what they call a Gender Master Class. Very glad nothing important (like protecting the country from whatever alien trying to invade and kill everyone) is going on, the Brigadier joins the rest of them in the audience, and watches the Doctor’s presentation.

They tell them all about how gender is a social construct, and that gender and genitalia are not the same thing. They tell them about how there are far more than just two genders, and all genders are real and valid. And the Brigadier finds himself smiling as he watches the Doctor speak, smiling as they recite their memorised speech, their hands flailing and rubbing the back of their neck and gesturing at the slides projected on the wall. He hadn’t realised just how passionate the Doctor looks when they talk about something they love, but he can see it now. And it may sound silly and rather sentimental, but seeing the Doctor looking so enthusiastic is rather sweet.

“...It is also possible to have more than one gender,” the Doctor continues, changing the slide. “Many people are bigender, which, as the name suggests, means that they have two genders at once. Others are trigender, and so on. It is also possible for a person to not have a gender at all; those people are agender, and commonly use gender neutral pronouns such as ‘they’. And then, there are people like me. I am sure you have all heard by now that I am genderfluid, but you may be confused by what that means. I know the Brigadier was when I told him,” the Doctor says, and they give the Brigadier a cheeky grin.

The Brigadier frowns at them as his men laugh, confused to find his face flushing. Hopefully no one notices, but that doesn’t stop his heart from racing.

“Being genderfluid means I don’t have a fixed gender. My gender can change from day to day, which means my pronouns do too. I am most likely to be using he/him or they/them pronouns, but sometimes I also use she/her or ze/zir pronouns. It is very important to respect someone when they ask for certain pronouns to be used, because being misgendered (that is, having someone refer to you as the wrong gender) can range from being mildly annoying to very upsetting. Mistakes are normal and natural, but the important thing is to learn from your mistake and not do it again, because you may seriously hurt the person you misgendered. Everyone understands that it can take a while to get used to different pronouns, but as long as you apologise when you mess up and try your hardest to change, most people will be happy. Because, ultimately, this is what this is all about: respecting others and accepting them for who they are.”

The Doctor stops talking, and changes the slide again. The words, **Thank you for listening** appear on the screen, and they smile. “I hope you all found my presentation interesting. Thank you.”

As everyone gives the Doctor a round of applause, the Doctor glances at the Brigadier. But they quickly look away when the Brigadier makes eye contact, wringing their hands as their face goes as red as the Brigadier’s.

After everyone has started to file out of the room, the Doctor approaches him as he talks to Yates. They obviously notice that he and Yates are busy, because the Doctor just stands there, rubbing their hand against the back of their neck, and waits for them to finish their conversation.

“That was a really interesting presentation, Doctor,” Yates says when he spots the Doctor.

The Doctor smiles. “Thank you.”

“Yeah, I learned loads from it. I had no idea there were so many genders. It’s really opened my eyes.”

“That’s what I wanted to achieve,” the Doctor says, looking a bit embarrassed at being complimented. “Thank you. What about you, Brigadier?” they add, turning to the Brigadier. “What did you think?”

“As Yates said, it was a most enlightening presentation,” he says, and when he smiles, the Doctor’s cheeks flush again.

He wonders why the Doctor keeps blushing, but assumes that they must just find being complimented a bit embarrassing. But if that is the case, then why do they only blush when they’re talking to the Brigadier?

\---

The Brigadier is a bit shocked when the Doctor turns up at the UNIT Christmas party in a dress, before realising that the Doctor must be female today and trying to wipe the shocked expression from his face. Because the Doctor wearing a dress is not big deal, and he shouldn’t make anyone feel like it is.

“Actually, my dear fellow, it’s he/him today,” the Doctor says, as though he just read his mind. “I just felt like wearing a dress today.” He must still look a bit confused, because the Doctor adds, “Clothes and gender aren’t the same thing, you know.”

“Of course,” he says, clearing his throat. “You look most... handsome in that dress, Doctor.”

The Doctor grins as the Brigadier goes red, wondering why he said that. Yes, the Doctor does look surprisingly elegant in his long, flowing dress despite his height and rather bulky frame, but he hardly needed to announce that fact, did he?

“Thank you. And you look very handsome in that suit, Brigadier.”

The Brigadier stares at the Doctor and the smile on his face, and wonders if he is joking, because he can’t have just said that without being silly, surely. His heart racing, the Brigadier follows the Doctor into the hall, where a disco ball patterns the walls with fragments of light and Christmas songs play on the stereo. Thankfully, the hall is quite dark, so no one notices how red his face still is. Although he can’t understand why he went red in the first place.

Still, the Brigadier tries not to think about it. He and the Doctor join Jo Grant and Benton at one of the tables, and they sit and chat as they drink and eat snacks and listen to the music. It is a very enjoyable evening, but the Brigadier still can’t forget how he made such a stupid comment right to the Doctor’s face. The Doctor doesn’t mention it (he might have forgotten), but that doesn’t make his embarrassment cease.

About two hours into the party, (just after he manages to escape after being dragged onto the dance floor by Yates) the Brigadier notices that the Doctor has gone. He glances around the hall, but he doesn’t spot the Doctor anywhere. And, given that the Doctor is over six feet tall and wearing a purple dress, he shouldn’t be very difficult to miss.

Eventually, he finds the Doctor outside, leaning against the wall and talking to Miss Grant. He looks stressed, constantly rubbing his hands against the back of his neck, rocking on the balls of his feet. Miss Grant has her hand on his arm, and looks concerned.

“Doctor?” he says awkwardly, approaching the pair. Now he is closer, he can see the tension in the Doctor’s body, and the stress written on his face. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, my dear fellow, I’m fine,” the Doctor says, but his voice is flat and his words sound forced. “I just felt a bit overwhelmed.”

“So we thought we’d come outside for some peace and quiet, didn’t we, Doctor?” Miss Grant adds, and the Doctor nods.

“Overwhelmed in what way?”

“The bright lights and loud music, mainly,” the Doctor says. “I can deal with such situations for a short amount of time, but it becomes rather draining after a couple of hours. Jo noticed that I was starting to shutdown, so she took me outside. I’m feeling better now, but I’m not quite up to going back inside yet.”

“Is there a reason why you felt so overwhelmed?” he asks, wondering if this might be something to do with the Doctor’s alien physiology.

The Doctor stares down at the floor, and Miss Grant says, “It’s part of his autism—”

“Jo,” the Doctor whispers, a hushed, warning tone to his voice.

At the same time, a very confused Brigadier says, “Autism?”

But neither of them responds to him. Miss Grant stares at the Doctor, and her eyes go as wide as his.

“Sorry. I forgot. I guess you haven’t told him yet.”

“No, I haven’t,” the Doctor says, his fingers rubbing the silk sleeve of his dress.

“Sorry, I—”

“No, it’s all right, Jo.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, it’s fine.”

The Brigadier looks between them, wondering what they are talking about. So he says, “Can I ask what you two are going on about?”

“Do you want me to explain?” Miss Grant asks, patting the Doctor’s arm.

“If you don’t mind,” he says wearily.

As the Doctor gives her a grateful smile, Miss Grant takes a deep breath and launches into a long and in-depth description and explanation of what autism is. The Brigadier has never heard of it, but apparently it is what’s known as a developmental disability, and there are currently a lot more autistic humans than he would think, even though he has never heard of them.

“...Because of the lack of understanding,” Miss Grant continues, sounding like she is reciting a script the Doctor wrote, because it is just his thing to write long monologues, “there is a lack of diagnosis. Autistic people have always existed, but if you don’t know how to spot the traits, no one will get diagnosed with it. But just because they aren’t documented, doesn’t mean they don’t exist...”

As Miss Grant carries on talking, the Brigadier begins to understand a lot. He certainly understands why he has never heard of autism, because no one ever talks about it, let alone understands it. And he also suddenly understands a lot of the Doctor’s traits, from his tendency to infodump, to his fidgeting, to his rather poor attempts at social interaction, because they are obviously autistic traits. And when Miss Grant explains sensory issues, he understands why the Doctor is out here in the first place, because the bright, loud, crowded hall has obviously sent him into a sensory overload.

“Did that make sense?” she asks when she finally finishes.

“I... I think so,” he says. “It’s just rather a lot to take in. Is there anything else I should know?”

“Yes,” the Doctor says. “Please don’t treat me like your inferior. I may be disabled, but that doesn’t make me inferior or broken. My brain is just wired up differently.”

Despite knowing he would never do that, the Brigadier still nods and says, “I promise I won’t do that.”

And the Doctor and Miss Grant both smile, the Doctor’s smile once again making him blush.

\---

The Brigadier is confused. And, given that the Doctor is the reason why he is confused, he has no problem in tracking her down and asking her to elaborate.

“Doctor?” he says, walking into her lab.

He finds the Doctor sat on the desk, putting what appear to be fabric pouches into pockets in the lining of her cloak. Not bothering to ask what she is doing, he goes over to her and says her name again.

This time, the Doctor looks up. She smiles. “Hello, Brigadier.”

“Hello, Doctor,” he says. “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course you can, my dear fellow. What is it?”

“Well, Sergeant Benton was talking about something you told him, and I was rather confused, so I thought I would come to you for an explanation.”

“I see,” she says, looking back down at the pouch things. But he knows that she is listening. “What was it that confused you?”

“Benton said you were talking to him about sex— not sexual intercourse, I mean—”

“I know what you mean,” the Doctor says, smiling as the Brigadier goes red. “You mean biological sex.”

“Yes, exactly,” he says, smiling gratefully. “Well, and Benton said you’d told him that sex is a spectrum. And that confused me, because... well because I haven’t heard someone say that before. Can you elaborate?”

“It’s actually quite simple. Do you remember the little gender speech I gave?” the Doctor says. From what the Brigadier remembers, her speech was hardly ‘little’, but he doesn’t mention this, simply nodding his head. “Well then I’m sure you remember me saying that gender is a spectrum and not binary. Because sex isn’t binary either; it is also a spectrum. On Gallifrey that is at least considered common knowledge, but many people still cannot understand how it works. On Earth, however...”

The Brigadier frowns. “What do you mean, Doctor? How can sex not be binary? I mean, everyone is either XX or XY, aren’t they?”

The Doctor shakes her head and gives him an infuriating smile. “No, my dear fellow, it’s not that simple. Many humans, as many of them as those who have red hair, are what’s known as intersex. It means they don’t have XX or XY chromosomes, or their hormone levels are different, or their sex organs don’t fit the ‘normal’ parameters. It’s almost as though the sex binary is a completely pointless, fabricated idea.”

“Can I have an example?”

“Of course, my dear fellow. Well, someone who has XXY syndrome typically grows a bit shorter than their expected height, has smaller gonads than expected, and may grow extra breast tissue. It’s often not diagnosed because the symptoms aren’t as obvious as other intersex conditions... Brigadier?”

The Brigadier swallows hard, his heart racing. His hands move to his chest, where behind his tight vest there are bulges not caused by his pectoral muscles.

“Brigadier? Are you all right?”

Starting slightly, the Brigadier forces himself to nod. “Yes, yes, Doctor, I’m fine.”

The Doctor obviously doesn’t believe him, but she doesn’t say anything. “Does that make more sense now?”

He nods again. “I think so, yes.”

The Doctor smiles. As she looks back down at the pouches and her cloak, the Brigadier tries to calm his breathing, hoping it will get his heart rate back to normal. But the anxiety is still there, welling up inside his chest, and he knows he needs answers. So he takes the deepest breath his tight chest will allow and says, “Doctor, would you be able to test my genes?”

“Of course I can. The old girl can do all sorts. Why?”

“I, I’m just curious, what with all this talk of chromosomes.”

The Doctor smiles, thankfully not noticing the tension on his face. “Right then, follow me.”

She leads him into the TARDIS, and, after rummaging around for a couple of minutes, hands the Brigadier a large cotton swab and a thin plastic tube.

“Just rub that on the inside of your cheek, and put it in the tube,” the Doctor says, smiling.

The Brigadier does what she says, swabbing the inside of his mouth with the stick. Once he has put it in the tube, the Doctor takes it back and shoves the tube into a hole in the TARDIS control panel. Then she smiles and clasps her hands together.

“There we are. The results should be ready in ten minutes.”

“Thank you, Doctor,” the Brigadier says, wishing the tight feeling in his chest would go away.

They go back out into the lab, and the Doctor resumes putting the pouch things into her cloak. The Brigadier paces the length of the room, tightly clasping his hands together behind his back.

“What are you doing, Doctor?” he asks, wondering if a chat with the Doctor would pass the time.

Looking delighted at being asked this question, the Doctor holds up one of the pouch things and smiles. “I’m putting these weighted pads inside my cloak.”

“And... why are you doing that?” the Brigadier says, resisting the urge to snap at the Doctor. He doesn’t know why, because the Doctor hasn’t done anything wrong, but he assumes it is because of his rising anxiety.

“Well, you know how Jo explained my sensory issues to you?” she says. “Well, I often find my sense of touch understimulated, and putting weights in my clothing helps to provide sensory stimulation. As my sensory needs change depending on my mood and other factors, we decided that making the weights easy to remove would solve that problem. I can’t sew very well so Jo helped me make the pouches (which are full of rice) and the pockets in my cloak, and I have spent much of this morning trying out different combinations to see which provide the best stimulation.” The Doctor chuckles as she puts another weighted pouch inside her cloak. “Sorry, that was a bit of an infodump, wasn’t it?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Brigadier says, finally understanding why the Doctor puts heavy books on her lap when she drives Bessie.

The Doctor buttons the pockets shut and then stands up. She spins on the spot, and her cape flutters out around her. When she stops spinning, the Doctor stumbles dizzily, but there is a massive grin on her face.

“Yes,” she says, “I think that’s the right weight for me right now. That feels lovely.”

Again, the Brigadier finds himself struck with the thought that the Doctor looks rather sweet when she is so happy, but it is overshadowed by his anxiety about his DNA sample in the TARDIS.

“Um, how long is it now, Doctor?” he asks. He glances at his watch, but he isn’t sure of the exact time the Doctor started the ten minute countdown.

“Thirty seconds,” the Doctor says, wafting her cloak with her hands. The smile slides off of her face as she stares at the Brigadier, like she is studying him. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Yes, Doctor, I’m fine.”

The Doctor doesn’t look convinced, but she smiles nevertheless. “Come on, then. Let’s check and see what your DNA looks like.”

Forcing himself to smile, the Brigadier follows her back into the TARDIS. The Doctor pulls a few levers and pushes a few buttons, and then the TARDIS makes a strange whirring noise and it prints out a piece of paper. The Doctor tears the paper off from the machine and studies it.

When she has finished, she looks at the Brigadier (avoiding eye contact, as per usual), and says, “You have XXY chromosomes.”

Somehow, hearing this makes him both relaxed and more anxious at the same time.

“And... what does that mean?” he says weakly.

“It means that you’re intersex, Brigadier,” the Doctor says, and she smiles.

He tries to smile, but he still feels anxious. The Doctor obviously sees this on his face, and she frowns. And then her eyes widen in understanding, and he feels even worse.

“Ah, is this why you’ve been looking so tense?” she says, talking to herself more than the Brigadier. She steps closer, still holding the paper. “You know, Brigadier, this isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not ashamed, I’m...” he trails off, sighing. “I’m just confused.”

The Doctor smiles sadly. “I understand.”

Handing him the piece of paper, the Doctor goes further into the TARDIS, leaving him alone. The Brigadier stares down at the paper, his eyes focusing on the two Xs printed beside the one Y. The anxiety is dying down, but he is now left with a strange sensation in his stomach. He doesn’t know how to describe it, but receiving this news has left him feeling rather strange.

Of course, the Doctor is right (there is nothing wrong with being intersex, and it certainly explains a lot), but he doesn’t know how long it will take for him to accept this news. Although he hopes that he will be accept himself one day, and be proud of his differences just like the Doctor is about hers.

\---

When the Doctor asks if they can kiss him, the Brigadier isn’t nearly as shocked as he thought he might be. In a way, he has been expecting it to happen sooner or later.

“Can I kiss you, my dear fellow?” they ask, leaning a bit closer.

After quickly checking that they are actually alone, he turns back to the Doctor and nods. “Of course you can, Doctor.”

Slowly, the Doctor leans towards him, placing their hands on his shoulders. And then, tentatively, the Doctor kisses him, pressing their lips against his own. It is a sweet, soft kiss, and the Brigadier wonders how such a simple action can be so perfect.

When they pull away, there is a beautiful smile on the Doctor’s face. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he says, and they kiss again.

\---

Just like when he discovered he is intersex, the Brigadier finds it difficult to think about his relationship with the Doctor. Because now they are a couple it is impossible to dismiss his feelings about the Doctor; he is attracted to them, and he needs to accept that.

Although the bigger problem is of his sexuality, because he knows he cannot be heterosexual if he loves the Doctor (which he does), which means a big part of his identity has been wrong all these years. He had a chat with the Doctor about it (because of course the Doctor is an expert on sexual orientation as well as gender), and it seems that he is actually bisexual instead. He knows there is nothing wrong with it, of course he does. But it still feels odd to admit, and he isn’t quite sure why.

Eventually, he gets sick of mulling it over, and decides to discuss this with the Doctor. Luckily, they understand.

“What exactly is the problem?” they ask, sipping from their cup of tea.

He sighs. “It’s rather trivial, really, but I’m finding it difficult to come to terms with my sexuality. I know that I’m bisexual, but it just feels odd to think of myself as bisexual, if that makes any sense.”

“I know you think you’re rambling, but you actually are making at lot of sense,” the Doctor says, giving him a lovely smile. “It can be a shock to discover your sexual orientation, and it can take a while to process.”

“You’re right there, Doctor,” he says.

“If it helps, my reaction was one of amazement, because I had no idea asexuality even existed. It made me so happy to know I wasn’t broken.”

The Doctor smiles and kisses his forehead. And the Brigadier knows his own situation is quite similar to the Doctor’s, because it is oddly calming to know that bisexuality is a thing, and that he isn’t broken either.

\---

Within a few months of their first kiss, the Doctor has developed a habit of spending the evenings at the Brigadier’s house. So it is very common to find them both sat together on the sofa of an evening, drinking tea and watching television, the Doctor leaning against him. Sometimes they kiss, but they mainly just relax and unwind, especially if they have spent the day dealing with aliens or any other weird things. Yes, it is always very relaxing, and the Brigadier has begun to look forward to spending his evenings with the Doctor, and he is sure the Doctor thinks the same.

One night, as they lean against each other and watch some rubbish in the little TV, the Brigadier sees the Doctor’s hand resting against the sofa. He moves his cup of tea to his other hand and carefully covers the Doctor’s hand with his own.

It only takes the Brigadier a few seconds to realise that something is wrong. The Doctor has tensed up, staring straight ahead like something has spooked him.

“Doctor?” he says, giving the Doctor’s hand a squeeze in an attempt to get his attention.

Suddenly, the Doctor jerks away from him, pulling his hands away as though he has just touched a hot stove. The sudden movement sends his cup of tea flying, and the Brigadier finds his trousers sprayed with lukewarm tea. But he barely notices, more interested in what on Earth is wrong with the Doctor. He stumbles to his feet and backs away, his face tense, pure terror in his eyes. He starts to shake, his fingers trembling, his knees wobbling. He looks like he might faint, but he stays on his feet.

“Doctor?”

The Doctor backs against the wall and leans on it. His breathing starts to rasp, coming so quickly he must be hyperventilating, and he looks wobblier than ever. His face crumples and he hangs his head, beginning to slap the palms of his hands against the wall. The Doctor’s breathing gets jerkier, his eyes bright with suppressed tears, his hands slamming so hard against the wall that it must really hurt.

“Doctor?” he says again, approaching his partner.

The Doctor looks at him, and tears start to leak from his eyes. “P-Panic attack.”

By now gasping for breath, the Doctor lets the Brigadier take his arm and lead him back to the sofa. As soon as he sits down, he begins to rock backwards and forwards, breathing far too fast.

The Brigadier sits with him, rubbing his back and telling him again and again that he is so sorry, and hopes his words mean something. He still doesn’t know what he did, but knows it must have something to do with covering the Doctor’s hand.

It takes the Doctor a long time to calm down. When he can breathe again, he presses his hands against his forehead and mumbles about ‘panic attacks’ and ‘triggers’ and ‘behavioural therapy’. He doesn’t make much sense (and sounds like he is really forcing his words out), but the Brigadier gets the gist of it. And his stomach clenches when he realises that him covering the Doctor’s hand gave him a panic attack, and it is all because of what some truly hateful people did to him when he was a child. And him doing that must have triggered memories, which sent him into a panic attack. He feels sick.

Still, this isn’t about him. Despite his own anger and fear, the Brigadier continues to rub the Doctor’s back until he has recovered from the panic attack. He is left looking weak and drained, but he looks a lot better now it is over.

He must feel it too, because he gives the Brigadier a weak smile as he says, “Thank you.”

“I’m sorry for—”

“You didn’t know,” the Doctor insists, his voice hoarse. “Thanks for helping me.”

The Brigadier wants to argue, knowing this wouldn’t have happened if it wasn’t for him, but he doesn’t want to upset the Doctor further. So he simply smiles and kisses the Doctor’s sweaty forehead.

The Doctor hugs him, and they stay cuddled up like that for hours. Eventually, the Doctor falls asleep, but the Brigadier stays awake, simply staring at the ceiling as the Doctor snores into his chest, wondering how people could have been so abusive to someone he cares about – to someone he loves – for such trivial reasons. And he brushes his sleeping partner’s fluffy hair with his trembling fingers and vows to never let anyone hurt the Doctor again.


End file.
